


...ash?

by curarpiktano



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Ash Lynx Lives, Ash Lynx Needs A Hug, Ash Lynx and Okumura Eiji Go to Japan, Griffin Callenreese Is a Good Brother, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Photographer Okumura Eiji, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Abuse, Sorry guys, Trauma, Triggers, ash and eiji live together, ash is triggered by cameras, ash likes frogs, but please read it anyways maybe, fuck dino all my homies hate dino, he’s safe now but the trauma remains, he’s still dead though, im not great at tags :////, it hurts, it’s lightly referenced at the beginning lmao, just a fun fact, some stuff is described though so just tread lightly, this fic hurts, when doesn’t he though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29974014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curarpiktano/pseuds/curarpiktano
Summary: That camera was the horizon. And he was a lynx destined to drown in a sea of men who treated him exactly like this.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ash relives his camera-related trauma every time he hears his photographer boyfriend take a new picture
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 10
Kudos: 56





	...ash?

**Author's Note:**

> i’m so sorry
> 
> this is my first banana fish piece but it won’t be the last. if you need a song to listen to while you read this, i listened to Blue Bird, Dino, and Aslan from the banana fish ost while writing it. hate to say it, but dino’s song is really really good and i fully recommend it

Ash had never been a fan of cameras.

When he was younger, Griffin would always try to capture moments of his childhood through photos. Him climbing a tree, him making breakfast for the two of them in their shared home, him catching a frog with his bare hands after two days’ worth of rain. The light haired boy would always cover his face with a smile, cracking a joke about how the sun was in his eyes.

And the older he got, the harder it was.

They’d grab his shirt with thick, hot hands, tearing the fabric off of his frail form as if it were wrapping paper. They’d lace one, two fingers around his belt, and tug down, rabid and hungry, wanting something that the boy beneath them could not even begin to understand. He’d scream and cry until his throat was raw, begging someone, anyone, to save him, please, it hurt so badly when they held him down like that, but after it had happened three, four, five times, he learned that it hurt less when he was quiet. That was what his father had told him, and it ended up working out. They hit him less when he didn’t struggle.

There was always a man behind them, poised with a large device on an intricate stand. When he couldn’t find a better place to look, Ash would resign to lock his sight onto the sleek, black machine, clicking and whirring as it captured the various positions he was forced into. He wondered how it worked, he wondered where the material it captured would someday go. He wondered who would want it. When he was ten, Mister Crosby and Papa Dino took him into a dark, cold room, and he watched his answer unfold on a screen. 

It was easier to handle the physical pain, with something to focus on. He’d always been told to focus on the horizon if he felt seasick, and in a way, this was like that. 

That camera was the horizon. And he was a lynx destined to drown in a sea of men who treated him exactly like this.

He’d never liked the ocean, either.

____

Sometimes he’d try to catch the eye of the cameraman as he trained his device on him. The man was cold, closed off, never seemed to want to get in on the action. He had sunglasses covering his eyes, and Ash didn’t have the luxury to wonder how many children those eyes had seen beneath the sweaty, ravenous men that took turns with him.

When the men were done, they would give him a lollipop if he was lucky and roughly send him out. No time to recover, nothing. They didn’t care where he went, and he didn’t care where he went, either. No matter how far he ran, he could only ever end up back here. Dino had taught him as much. He’d limp down alleyways aimlessly, stalling any amount of time before returning to Golzine’s arms.

That camera, with its shutter that ticked in affirmation whenever it trained on his naked form, was always watching him. He felt it as surely as he felt the pain of the bruises on his skin and the stinging inside his body.

_____

Eiji Okumura hummed softly as he trained the lens of his brand new camera on a flower he’d found in a patch of weeds. Now 20 years old, he worked part time at a convenience store and spent the rest of his time taking pictures. With the money he had saved up, he’d bought himself a shiny new camera, and he could blind a small country with the beaming smile he’d worn when he brought it home.

He’d lived in Japan with his closest friend— and dare he say partner— Ash ever since his first trip to America. After almost killing a mafia don, and almost dying in the process, Ash had decided to fly home with Eiji, wasting no time on making the decision. “You deserve the change of scenery,” the older boy had said, and the pain in his eyes was something that Ash never wanted to be the cause of.

The blond boy quickly picked up on Japanese, taught by his very own roommate. Soon, they could both get by in either English or Japanese, which was fine by them; in the area they lived in, both languages were spoken. As soon as he’d moved to Japan, the former gang leader readopted his birth surname, Callenreese. He was no longer a lynx prowling New York, and he wanted to move past that part of his life. He wanted to be happy, and this was his new start. Eiji, of course, was as supportive as ever. “Ash Jade Callenreese,” he’d said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I think it’s perfect.”

And from the beginning, whenever Eiji went out to take pictures, Ash was close behind, following silently with his head down. Afterwards, the two would always get food together before heading home. 

After their first meeting in New York, Eiji knew cameras were a sensitive subject when it came to his counterpart. He and Ash had an agreement, although they’d never discussed it: don’t take pictures of Ash.

And so Okumura, eager as ever to continue his art in his home country, decided to focus on a “nature in the city” sort of portfolio.

A few months into it, Callenreese warmed up to the photography process, adding to his boyfriend’s silent work with a monotone interjection or two.

“Look, there’s a bird on that fence post.” Click.

“The sunset’s soft today, Eiji. It reminds me of you.” Click.

“Eiji, careful, you’re about to step on that snail.” 

“Waaah!” He stumbled out of its way.

Click.

_____

A few more months passed.

“Ash, can I ask you something?”

They sat together on their couch after a long day of photography around town, television chatter framing the silence.

“Hm?” A head lifted, eyes settled on the speaker.

“You… you always come with me when I take my pictures. And I love you, and I love that you support me so much, and I love being able to spend time with you, but…”

Ash tensed up.

“No, no no no no, it’s nothing bad! Let me finish before you get so nervous.” Shoulders loosened. Eiji sighed, balling the fabric of his sweater into his fists as he prepared to dip his toes into the quiet ocean of monsters in Ash’s mind.

“It’s just… Ash, talk to me. I want to help you work through whatever’s going on.”

Thin eyebrows furrowed, forehead wrinkling in confusion beneath bangs the hue of sunlight. “What do you mean? I’m fine.” And he had been: he was working on getting a job of his own in Japan, and his language skills had been flourishing. He’d even bought a cookbook and started to learn some traditional Japanese recipes to surprise Eiji with.

“You flinch when the shutter clicks. Every single time.”

“...”

He slowly turned away from the dark-haired man next to him, his head tilted down to face the floor. Balancing his elbows on his knees, he knotted his hands, lacing his fingers together so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

A lump grew in his throat. If he responded, he’d cry. He knew it. He knew Eiji wouldn’t have been so blind as to not notice, and he knew this conversation would come. He came to Japan hoping that everything would be left behind in America, but he still experienced horrifically vivid dreams of his own raw skin beneath some behemoth of an old man. And that man with the camera, who would sit and watch as if it was just another day’s work. That man, with his dark sunglasses and sharpened jaw...

The man’s face would morph into Eiji’s, the chin softening and the hair darkening. The camera would become his. And he’d just watch. He’d watch as these men devoured him, robbed him of his decency, solidified the only fact that Ash had ever known: he was a filthy whore.

And he’d wake up in a cold sweat.

He couldn’t tell Eiji. Not now. Not ever. This was Eiji’s passion, he wanted nothing more to be a photographer, and Ash wasn’t going to ruin that because of some nightmare that he couldn’t shake, he should be over that by now, this was a new life. 

He slammed his eyes shut. Shut up, shut up, shut up. Stop thinking. Stop talking. Everything needs to stop, my head’s moving too fast, please just stop it, please—

“......”

A single tear fell on a light, scarred hand. Then another.

“....Ash?”

**Author's Note:**

> IM SO SORRY GUYS
> 
> if this gave you emotions please do tell me below, every kudo is a kick to dino’s balls and every comment is a kick to marvin’s balls because literally i hate them both


End file.
